


I'll be all right (as long as you stay with me)

by thinkzebrasfirst



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Daddy Kink, Guilt, Infidelity, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 18:43:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6819721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkzebrasfirst/pseuds/thinkzebrasfirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no hiding from this conversation anymore.    Desperately, Tom thinks he could try to lock himself out on the balcony, but he draws the curtains instead. He knows what’s going to happen, what always happens, and if he’s not going to be careful with his life he should at least be sensitive to Matt’s— situation—is the most delicate way to put it, the only way Tom can talk about it and still look Matt’s wife in the eye.  </p><p>He can hear Matt shift behind him, he’s finally picking up on the awkwardness of the moment.  Fuck it, Tom thinks and he asks the question, the one that’s been haunting him since this started, since the final horn declared the Blues Stanley Cup Champions. </p><p>“Are you coming back?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll be all right (as long as you stay with me)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was thought of and written in a day, so please forgive any mistakes and feel free to point them out to me. 
> 
> For the record, Tom does call Matt "Dad" and he's only got himself to blame for this mess. 
> 
> It occurred to me after writing that Matt Murray does indeed exist, and that the 'Matt' might be more confusing than say 'Cullen' or 'Culsy', but seeing how Daddy is for special occasions, Matt will have to do.

Tom hates losing. 

Every athlete in this room hates it, he’s sure of that. He watches as his teammates give reporters dejected looks and quiet answers as to why they couldn’t get the job done, why they fell short when everyone said they’d win it all. He hugs everyone he can, laughs when Rusty told him to send him a selfie of him and the castle. He’s going to miss his friends and he knows that home doesn’t quite have the lure anymore, not that he knows the addictive feeling of screaming crowds, the intoxicating presence of—. No, his home isn’t Matt, not anymore, it can’t be. 

Watching the others pack up makes him sad to leave but, he’s tired, God, he’s so tired. To come so far in the season just to lose to the fucking Blues, seriously, they got beaten by a team with a goddamn music note on their chests. The last person he makes a point to say goodbye to is Tishy, who’s almost certainly headed somewhere else. He wraps him up in a hug, tells Tishy he’ll miss him, and Tishy knows exactly what he means. He looks around the locker room one last time, searching. Matt’s not here, that’s a good thing, he tells himself. A clean break is what he needs. He takes his black and gold jersey, a souvenir for the year, off the hangar and goes to stuff it in his bag. He’s stopped by a look from Dana, who snuck up on him, and he sheepishly folds it neatly and places it on top. 

“Sorry, Dana.” He says. Dana gives him a smile and extends his hand. It’s not the worst thing Dana’s caught him doing anyway, but he still feels guilty. 

“It’s been an honor to work with you. We’ll get ‘em next year.” Tom nods and says a variation of the same, but he was so sure this was the year, it’s hard to imagine making that climb again. It’s almost impossible to imagine doing it without the men in this room, especially—. No, just don’t think about it, that’s what Matt repeated for half the season, like a mantra. Don’t think about it, it’ll take care of itself, we’ll figure it out later, let’s just have fun with it. That’s how Tom ended up sucking Matt off in a non-descript bathroom after a team celebration in Florida. Tom shakes his head as if to clear it. That was in the past, he thinks so at least. It has to be. Matt, well, Matt’s probably played his last game, Tom can’t count on him anymore. He takes his sticks and his bag and walks out the door without looking back. 

He’s halfway down the hallway when someone falls into step beside him. He looks over and there’s Matt, walking nonchalantly like he didn’t just half-run down the hallway to catch up. Matt doesn’t seem in the mood to stop, so they don’t. Tom doesn’t know what to say, but he knows at least he wants to be able to make a quick exit if he hears what he thinks Matt’s going to say. Matt’s seen him stripped bare and crying, seen him on his knees and needy, but if Matt tells him he’s leaving for good, going back to Minnesota and his white picket fence, then he doesn’t think he could bear the pitying look that would undoubtedly come his way. Matt made it clear this was just a casual thing, he had a wife he loved and children he loved, and Tom agreed. He was desperate then, desperate to know what to do and where to go and who not to bother on gameday. Matt was so sure, so calm in everything that he did that Tom couldn’t help but be drawn to him, to follow his lead. The coaches took him aside early and praised him for fitting in so well, praised Matt for taking care of him. He agreed with Matt, “It’s not serious, of course not. Of course you love your family, it’s just primal, there’s no feelings here.” 

It was a lie and he knew it subconsciously even then. He was dead certain what he was feeling was real the first time Matt fucked him face to face, pushing Tom’s legs over his shoulders, Matt cradling his face and telling him he was perfect, God created him just for this, for him. When he was there, Matt made him feel like there was no else in the world, it was them in their bubble, playing great hockey, having great sex. When Matt left though, that’s when the anxiety would kick in. A nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach, a steady itch of griminess that a shower couldn’t cure. There was someone else, in Matt’s world, Tom was just a visitor. 

They make it to the parking garage, Tom determined not to break the silence, this is Matt’s show and it always has been. It’s only when Tom makes a turn to go to his car that Matt speaks. 

“Ride with me, I’ll drive you to the hotel.” Matt has his keys out and makes a jangling motion, one eyebrow cocked. 

“I don’t want to leave my car overnight.” Tom says hesitatingly, adjusting his bag slightly. 

It makes sense, he rationalizes, he might not be able to get it tomorrow, who knows what happens to the garage once hockey’s over. Some overzealous fan could come in and take out his anger on it, the garage could collapse; the excuses form quickly in his mind, waiting to be said in order to justify his feelings. Matt doesn’t ask him to, he never does, he always takes Tom at his word. 

Matt nods. “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

He says it firmly, leaving no room for argument. Tom doesn’t even want to fight, his stomach is in knots but his heart is racing knowing there’s at least one more time, one more time where he can close out the world and pretend Matt is his. He can feel Matt press into him and groan, hear Matt whisper how Tom was gorgeous, no one else could make him feel like this, Tom can pretend it’s real and delay the inevitable. He waves a hand in acknowledgment and walks toward his car, taking his time to load in his gear. Matt’s already sitting in the driver’s seat of his car, tapping the steering wheel. Matt knows perfectly well where the hotel is, it’s like he doesn’t trust Tom to drive off on the highway instead, leaving him behind. 

Tom gets in his car, starts it, and smirks when Matt follows closely behind him out of the lot. It’s a short drive, one of the perks of staying in a hotel, he supposes next year the team will expect him to get his own apartment. Next year, when he’d be—. Well, it didn’t matter. He pulls into a spot in the hotel’s underground garage, Matt parking right next to him. He sits in his car for a second, gathering his things. A shadow falls across him as Matt stands by his car door, waiting patiently for Tom to unlock it. Tom idly wonders what would happen if he didn’t unlock it, just sat here. How long would it take for Matt to lose interest? Would it hurt more or less if they ended it now? Matt knocks one knuckle against the window and Tom flicks the lock before can think any more. 

Matt opens the door and helps Tom with his seatbelt, not saying a word, extending his hand to help Tom out of the car. He takes it. He lets Matt open the door to the backseat and take out his gear. Matt slings the bag over his shoulder, muscles rippling, he turns his head to meet Tom’s eyes and smiles. Tom blushes. He smiles softly in return. He loves this feeling and hates himself for chasing it. Matt always knows what to do, he knows what’s best for Tom. It was so easy to let Matt take charge, it was a dangerous feeling. 

Matt gestures at Tom to follow him, and he does, he always does. They go into the elevator and Matt presses the button for Tom’s floor like it’s nothing. He’s done it enough that it’s expected at this point, Tom doesn’t even try anymore, Matt will take care of it. Tom’s stomach swoops and he tries to convince himself it’s because of the jolt of the elevator moving upwards, but he knows better. The doors open and Matt strides out, whistling a song Tom’s never heard. He’ll never know how Matt can be so calm about this, so unconflicted, but Matt’s done this before, he must’ve. Tom follows quickly after him, eager despite reservations. Matt leans against the wall by Tom’s door as Tom pulls out his key cards, he left one once on the nightstand Matt used, Matt didn’t take it. Tom pretended it didn’t mean anything. 

The lock beeps and a rush of cold air comes out to meet the slightly stale air of the hallway. It’s a good sized suite: a little kitchenette in the corner, a small lounge area, and a sturdy wooden bed. They go inside and Matt shuts the door behind him, fastening the chain lock before dropping Tom’s gear out of the way. Ever polite, he lines his shoes up at the door. It makes for a quick exit. 

There’s a small desk by the balcony and Tom dumps his wallet, keys, and phone down, keeping his back to Matt. He toes off his shoes and carefully arranges them under the desk. There’s no hiding from this conversation anymore. Desperately, Tom thinks he could try to lock himself out on the balcony, but he draws the curtains instead. He knows what’s going to happen, what always happens, and if he’s not going to be careful with his life he should at least be sensitive to Matt’s— situation—is the most delicate way to put it, the only way Tom can talk about it and still look Matt’s wife in the eye. 

He can hear Matt shift behind him, he’s finally picking up on the awkwardness of the moment. Fuck it, Tom thinks and he asks the question, the one that’s been haunting him since this started, since the final horn declared the Blues the champions. 

“Are you coming back?” He says, meeker than he intended. 

If anyone overheard them they’d assume he meant coming back to the team, Matt was integral, he was the rock of their team, the steady presence when things got rough. What he was desperate to ask was “Will you come back for me? ” He didn’t have the strength to hear that answer though, he already knew what it was.

“I don’t—” is all Matt gets out before Tom whirls around, trembling with sudden anger. The uncertainty from half a season of screwing around, the guilt, the lies, it’s too much. Matt knows, he must know, he must have made his decision by now. He’s toying with Tom, he’s got to be, he gets some sick pleasure from leaving Tom twisting in the wind. Who wouldn’t know, who wouldn’t have made this decision? 

“Don’t!”

Tom’s voice cracks and he takes a second to breathe. Matt at least has the decency to look ashamed. “Don’t you dare say you don’t know.” He spits it out, disgusted with Matt, disgusted with himself.

 

Matt looks at him plaintively, crossing the room to him. Tom stiffens up as Matt puts a firm hand on Tom’s left hip, sliding it under the waistband of Tom’s shorts. Matt works his other hand up Tom’s shirt, kneading at the bruises on his chest. Tom hisses and turns his head involuntarily toward Matt. Tom was taller, but he always seemed to be looking up at Matt, his body giving in unconsciously, making his decision for him. Matt kissed him, firm and unyielding, daring Tom to break it, daring Tom to stop him. Tom didn’t, he never did. 

He gave in, biting Matt’s lower lip and taking pleasure when Matt moans in pain rather than pleasure. Matt digs his hand into Tom’s hip, making him sink even lower, the desk supporting them both now. His other hand moves its way up to the nape of Tom’s neck, pulling at the curls there that formed after a long playoff run, Tom hissing in pain, groaning into Matt’s mouth. Matt deepens the kiss and Tom can’t breathe, he doesn’t want to breathe, he thinks he could survive on this feeling alone. Tom’s cock twitches and he’s halfway hard in his shorts and desperate, he presses up against Matt as Matt slots his thigh between Tom’s legs. 

“Please.” That’s all Tom can muster, his eyes wide, his breath ragged. Matt pulls away and Tom makes a noise of frustration as Matt trails light kisses on his jawline he punctuates with claiming bites. 

“Please? Please what?” Matt chuckles after, like this is game and he’s winning. 

“Please, dad, please.” His heart races, Matt’s hands are everywhere, groping his ass, his cock, scratching marks into his back. Matt chuckles again, Tom didn’t get it right. Matt moves his thigh away and sucks a mark on the side of Tom’s neck. He’s going to see that for days, weeks if he’s unlucky. Matt marking him for all the world to see. It’s not fair Tom can’t do the same. 

Matt shoves a hand down Tom’s shorts, getting ahold of his dick and rubbing his thumb over the head of Tom’s cock. Tom curses. He gives in. He always does. 

“Please, daddy,” He says hoarsely, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. Matt pulls down Tom’s shorts and Tom can’t help but rub against him, the rough fabric not enough of a deterrent. “Please, please, fuck me, daddy.” His breath is harsh and ragged, loud in the room over the hum of the air conditioning. 

“There it is.” Matt says triumphantly. “You want me to take care of you?” His eyes are sparkling in the dim light. He knows he won. 

Tom can only nod, he pinches his eyes shut and tears leak out, leaving tracks down his newly shaven cheeks. Matt kisses away the tears and it’s the cruelest thing he’s done all day. 

“I’ve got you babe, Daddy’s going to take care of you.” Matt pulls his own shirt off, Tom’s quickly follows. Matt leans down and tongues Tom’s nipple, sucking it loudly, and Tom’s knees start to buckle. It’s too much and it’s not enough. He steps out of his shorts at Matt’s urging, Matt half carrying him to the bed. He hits the bed gentler than he thought he would, clad only in his briefs. Matt props himself over Tom and goes back to work on Tom’s other nipple, repeating his earlier motions, biting and pulling just to get a reaction. Tom’s dick is straining against his briefs and he reaches to palm himself. Matt swats his hand away before he can reach, moving his head down so he can kiss each one of Tom’s abs, tasting, savoring every moment. 

“Please, daddy. I need it.” Matt drops his head and rests it on Tom’s stomach. Tom shivers as Matt adjusts himself through his pants. Matt gently works Tom’s briefs down his legs and tosses them across the room. Tom breathes a sigh of relief as his cock bobs free, slick already. Matt hastily unbuckles his own pants, takes down his boxers, and kicks himself free, stumbling slightly in his haste to get to the bedside table. He grabs the lube and a condom and tosses them down next to Tom. Matt stares at him, long enough for Tom to start squirming under his gaze. Tom spreads his legs wider as an invitation, waves his hand in an impatient ‘get on with it’ gesture. Matt huffs out a laugh. Tom can’t help but wonder what he was thinking, if Matt was trying to catalogue every moment for future reference, because he knew this would be the last time. 

The squelch of lube draws his attention back to Matt, trying to warm it up as he spreads it over his long fingers. His hands were full of scars, the kind of hands that had a story to tell. Matt’s finger circles Tom’s hole and Tom hisses as he presses inside. He shifts his hips down, body silently begging for more as Matt slowly works his finger all the way inside Tom. 

“Beautiful, babe.” Matt ducks his head down to give Tom’s thigh a sweet kiss. Tom nudges Matt with his foot and gets his desired response when Matt quickly pulls his finger out and thrusts it back in. 

The “Fuck!” escapes him involuntarily when Matt ghosts over his prostate. It’s a tease. It’s not enough, it’s too slow. Tom tries to wiggle around in an effort to push Matt in deeper, Matt lets out a growl in response. Tom whines, he’s used to this now, he’s starting to think again, he desperately just wants to let go. 

“You gotta tell me what you need, babe.” Matt says, still slowly working his finger in and out, stubbornly avoiding Tom’s prostate. 

“I need more, please.” Tom’s not afraid to beg, but he doesn’t want to give up his trump card just yet, asking nicely never hurt. 

“Do you? And who’s going to give it to you?” Matt’s mouth quirks up in a smile. 

“You are, daddy.” Tom tightens when Matt gives his balls a quick lick in response. He thrusts the second finger in less gently and Tom groans at the feeling of Matt’s fingers scissoring inside him, opening him up. Matt tosses the lube up by Tom’s arm, too focused on the task at hand to aim for the drawer. Tom finally feels close to normal,but he still feels empty, sucking on his own fingers trying to feel full again. Shocks go through his body as Matt moves his fingers more forcefully, stretching him wider, a zing of pain stifled by pleasure. A third finger goes in when Tom whispers “Daddy” without realizing it, Matt steadily fucking him, nailing his prostate every few strokes. 

Tears spring to his eyes as Matt fingers him harder and faster, eyes locked on the sight of Tom’s hole desperately clenching around his fingers. Just a little more, just a little faster and Tom could come. He wants it desperately but, if this is it forever, he needs to get fucked one last time. 

“Daddy!” Tom wails, Matt snaps his head up, the spell broken. His fingers still instantly, still inside of Tom. Tom takes shallow breaths, tears leaking out of his eyes, the smell of sex filling the room. They stay like that until Tom catches his breath, Matt making shushing noises and apologizing, rubbing his head on Tom’s thigh, breathing him in. 

Tom settles down, shivering when Matt pulls his fingers out slowly. Matt stands and rolls the condom hastily on his dick, fumbling fingers betraying how much he wants this. He knees down on the bed and arranges himself over Tom, sliding Tom and his pillow down as he throws Tom’s legs as wide as he can manage. Matt leans over and braces his hands by Tom’s head, his cock bobbing against Tom’s sensitive hole, leaving him shivering in anticipation when he feels it brush up against him. 

“Put it in, baby. If you want it, you gotta put it in.” 

Tom pushes down with both hands to grasp Matt’s cock, Matt grunting a little at the sudden contact. Tom lines him up the best he can and whimpers as the head of Matt’s dick sinks into him. Matt spreads his arms a little wider and Tom braces his own on the headboard. Matt sinks into Tom slowly, resting his forehead lightly on Tom’s, chanting his name like a prayer. When Matt finally bottoms out, he closes his eyes and exhales. His breath tickles and Tom tries not to react, just waiting him out. Matt’s never done this before. 

Matt pulls himself slowly out, nearly all the way, before speaking. “You’re so special, you know that?” He slams back into Tom, ensuring a grunt is his only answer. Matt opens his eyes, piercing blue, and Tom’s never felt more exposed. He tries to look away but Matt’s arms are right there, stronger than he is, and he looks back as Matt continues his praise. 

“The first time I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special.” Matt sets a steady rhythm, Tom’s head bowing forward to meet Matt’s once more. Matt pressed in deeper, hips stuttering as Tom clenches around him. Matt fucks him for a minute longer and Tom loses himself in the movement, eyes snapping open when Matt speaks again. 

“You’re beautiful, so eager.” He punctuates every word with a thrust. “I’d forgotten what it was like to be wanted.” Tom moans as Matt hits that spot again. He starts to thrust in more vigorously, Tom inching upwards with every stroke. Matt’s arms start to shake with exertion, sweat dripping off him and onto Tom, but he just keeps pounding in. Tom finally gargles out a yell, unable to stay silent any longer. He’s so close, all he needs is a few jerks of cock but he can’t move, he can barely breathe. Matt knows, he always does, and slips a hand around Tom’s cock giving a few solid jerks, relishing the feel of Tom’s come on his skin when Tom comes with a shout. Matt should stop and let him recover but he can’t, chasing his own orgasm as Tom’s tears flow freely. 

Tom’s sobs echo through the room as Matt pounds into him, coming only when Tom screams “Daddy!” loud enough for half the floor to hear. Matt slams home one final time and Tom can feel his come spurt through the thin barrier of the condom, experiencing fleeting disappointment that he won’t be able to keep a piece of Matt inside of him, even after he leaves. 

Matt pulls out, legs shaky from exertion, he ties the condom and tosses it into the trash before flopping back down on the bed. Tom curls up and away from Matt, familiar with the routine to know what would happen next. Matt sighs a little and pushes himself off the bed to take a shower. Tom grabs his pillow and moves out of the wet spot, he’ll move to the couch once Matt’s gone. The bed never feels right after they do this. He can hear the shower turn off as Matt gets out and dries off. He closes his eyes tightly and feigns sleep, that way it won’t hurt when Matt leaves without a word. 

Matt pulls on his clothes and Tom can feel his eyes on him, so he makes sure to let out a quiet sigh, then takes deep, even breaths. Matt will go out the door next and Tom will start the process of life without him. 

Except, Matt moves, but he comes closer to Tom. Tom’s certain his heartbeat is loud enough to give him away but he remains still, waiting. Matt’s finger traces his jawline delicately, bending over to give him a kiss on his cheek. Matt grabs something on the nightstand, Tom is desperate to open his eyes to see what he’s doing, when he hears the unmistakable sound of pen on paper. Matt puts it back down on the nightstand and walks quietly out of the room, shutting the door softly behind him. 

Tom waits a minute, which is silly because Matt doesn’t even have a key, but he waits until he hears the elevator ding anyway. He scrambles up and reaches for the pad. In Matt’s scrawl it reads: “I’m staying” underlined with a flourish.

Tom smiles and allows himself to hope.


End file.
